we are often taught, to be careful of the monsters.
From a very young age, they were what we hid from, under our duvets.
but who was to know, all those years ago, that we are the monsters, and the monsters are us.
He is the monster, that only wants you for ***;
She is the monster that doesn't see your worth;
They are the monsters that make you feel life is not worth living;
And we are the monsters, that corrupt society.
Although these monsters may make us feel worthless, we must not forget the worst monster of them all.
You are the monster.
You are the monster that doubts your dreams;
You are the monster that allows failure to succeed;
You are the monster who thinks you are worth nothing;
You are the monster, to make him use you;
You are the monster, who burnt your own worth;
You are the monster, that wants to commit your own ******;
You are the monster, that corrupts society.

But why? whoever said monsters can't be good?
You can also be the monster who is kind;
You can be the one who knows their worth;
You can be the one who reaches their dreams;
You can be the monster, who continues, despite the failures;
You are amazing.

Be the good monster.

Leave me alone with a pen and I can do many things like write a world of my own.

Preventing myself
From expressing concerns
Of whether or not you've eaten,
Sending a quadruple text
Explaining that I miss you and
That I hope you're okay,
And that I kind of want to send you
Funny pictures
And throw in an awkward picture of me
Hiding behind the cocoon of blankets
I've wrapped myself in.

Today was a bad day.
I can't wait to hear your voice,
But saying that--
Well, I've been told that's bad,
That's weird,
That's not quite correct to tell someone.

I hope we get to the point
That it's okay.
I'm sure you wouldn't mind
Hearing things like that,
I'm just scared you might.

It's awful that there have been people
Who have told me the exact opposite
Of the things you've said to me.
You care to hear what I have to say,
And you don't want to hear my apologies,
Not because you think they're guilt trips,
But because you think they're unnecessary.

I really want to hold your hand,
And listen to you speak or laugh,
Or even just breathe.
And I know that's insane,
I know that's weird,
But I've never felt this way before.

There aren't butterflies in my stomach,
But little sparks trying to start a fire in heart,
So that way when I see you,
I know I'm home.